


autumn ends, but we remain

by wolfsbvne



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, How Do I Tag, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Timeskip, atsumu is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsbvne/pseuds/wolfsbvne
Summary: atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 443





	autumn ends, but we remain

atsumu’s favorite season is summer. he loves the bright colors that the sun reflects. he loves the sweat that glistens off his body while he sets balls for kids he doesn’t know in the park. some of the kids know him though, which is something that touches something inside of him, no matter how much he wants to deny it when bokuto calls him a _softie_.

summer is good. it brought hinata’s freckles and fresh fruits and excitement, but there’s something about autumn that keeps atsumu enthralled.

maybe it’s the falling of leaves onto the cracked pavement he walks every day. the temperature drop, drop, dropping throughout the first month of autumn until he needs to tug a sweater over his shoulders. or maybe it’s just the quiet before the storm that was winter, where death would come and freeze all that the spring before brought.

autumn was the subtle reminder that change is okay and that things, people, will leave. but there are replacements. order will be restored. balance wins out.

☆

where atsumu is now, is in an autumn month. october. wind swirling leaves, blurs of reds and yellows across the neighborhood and away from what was once their home. atsumu stares out of the window from his place in the center court.

he sighs.

“hey hey, what’s got you down, tsum-tsum?” bokuto whips around to face atsumu and stares right at him. bokuto is about the last person you want seeing you sigh. the air around him is so light and pure atsumu could about choke on it.

“wasn’t a sigh. just, ya know, lettin’ air outta my lungs. an such.” atsumu replies and dodges bokuto’s face to look out of the window again, only to see it’s being blocked by a certain 6’4 curly-headed gangle of limbs. very long and flexible limbs. his eyes flick back to bokuto’s.

“didn’t say it was a sigh,” bokuto sing-songs while walking backwards and straight into hinata. hinata who then trips over his own feet and into the workout equipment. atsumu can’t help but laugh and from the corner of his eye he can see sakusa smirking at the scene in front of him.

right now, they’re in the msby black jackals gym doing fuck all still running off the high of their most recent win against ejp raijin. they won in straight sets, sakusa being the final spike right through the blockers arms to win the game. the scowl on suna’s face was so glorious atsumu wants it tatted on the back of his eyelids.

bokuto scrambles to help hinata up, saying something about injuring his disciple and tomas walks past, claps a hand on each of their shoulders to take them away to presumably do some actual worthwhile practice. atsumu looks ahead again and sakusa is looking straight back.

“miya,” sakusa nearly shouts from his spot near the window, “set for me.” his voice echoes.

 _beautiful_ , atsumu thinks, smiling at the man ahead of him. _so fuckin’ beautiful it hurts_.

atsumu wills his legs to move towards sakusa at the pace that would rival a turtle. “what’s that, omi-kun? don’t quite think i heard a please in yer sentence. i don’t set for impolite people.”

atsumu is full of shit and he’s sure sakusa knows it, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing on all of the taller man's nerve endings.

sakusa materializes a volleyball out of seemingly nowhere and throws it hard into atsumu’s chest. “set the damn ball, miya.”

☆

during an interlude where everyone’s taking a quick water break atsumu sits cross-legged on the gym floor and watches sakusa talk to meian, probably about a certain attack.

atsumu’s eyes linger around sakusa’s shoulders and the thought of what lies underneath his practice tee crosses his mind. moles. lots of them probably. dotting across the expanse of his back, down towards-- “ _tsum-tsum_ , back to earth,” bokuto swings his leg out far enough to kick atsumu’s knee and atsumu lets some of the water he’s trying to swallow dribble out of his mouth.

atsumu looks away from sakusa and glares at bokuto who’s smiling at him with every single tooth on display. “yer terrible.” atsumu says with not much bite to it. bokuto laughs and it dies down when he moves his eyes to look slightly behind atsumu.

he turns back to where he was just staring and is met with a pair of legs. atsumu tilts his head up and is met with sakusa, holding onto a mikasa volleyball and ready to go.

“miya--” sakusa starts and atsumu gets up from the floor.

“yeah yeah, i’m coming yer highness.”

☆

after so many sets that his wrist kind of stings and the sun has gone down enough that it’s blaring through the window, they decide to call it a day. the rest of their teammates have already showered, exiting one by one. hinata hopping besides bokuto and excitedly explaining some tv show he and kageyama have started. ‘ _shouyou, if you spoil it for me i can’t enjoy it,_ ’ at that, hinata shuts his mouth and bokuto chuckles beside him.

sakusa showers first as always and atsumu waits, playing on his phone and scrolling through social media to see all the posts made today. osamu posing stupidly with an onigiri captioned _‘suna begged me not to post this_.’ atsumu scrolls through the comments before adding his own, ‘ _listen to suna next time_.’

next thing he knows he is blocked from the onigiri miya official instagram page, which makes him laugh out loud.

“shower’s empty.” sakusa enters the locker room, shirt already halfway down his torso. he tugs it down and maneuvers around atsumu to get to his bag. “what’s so funny?” he asks.

“blocked by my own brothers instagram.” atsumu answers, getting up.

“deserved, probably,”

“probably,” atsumu answers and his eyes linger on the water droplets running down sakusa’s neck. “see ya tomorrow, omi-kun,” atsumu grabs his towel and heads to the showers but sakusa’s voice stops him.

“i’ll wait, we live in the same apartment complex anyways, might as well. wouldn’t want you getting lost in the dark or anything.”

 _that’s different,_ atsumu thinks. usually, he’d have to tough the cold alone, headphones in and walking along the streetlights all the way to his apartment. this was quite the anomaly. not that atsumu didn’t welcome it with open arms.

instead of hanging his arms wide out, atsumu glares at him. “fuck off. be out soon.”

“don’t skimp on scrubbing.”

“in yer presence? wouldn’ dream of it.”

☆

sakusa keeps his promise and is sitting on the bench when atsumu exits with a towel wrapped around his waist. sakusa looks up and immediately back down at his phone, a blush on his cheeks that he immediately covers up when he hooks his mask on. _huh_.

atsumu dresses silently and when he has all of his belongings tucked in his bag, zipped with a volleyball keychain hanging down the side he speaks up, “good to go, omi-omi.”

they walk in silence at first, the apartment complex is about a ten-minute walk which is extremely convenient, especially for someone who can’t stand taking the train.

_his heart sped up when they were squashed in like sardines that godforsaken time they had to take a train, atsumu’s jacket wrapped around sakusa’s head to insure nobody would touch his hair, his face, anything not covered by clothing._

atsumu clears his throat and sakusa turns his head to look at him.

“good practice today. good spikes, an’, uh, stuff.” _jesus christ you sound like an idiot, atsumu._

a pause.

“thank you.” sakusa’s reply stretches into the silence and atsumu could about die.

being left alone with sakusa kiyoomi is probably as close as a death sentence that atsumu could get to. his brain starts to wander every time, think about the idiosyncrasies of the wing spiker. most of the times atsumu presents himself as cool, calm, and collected as he always is in a crowd when he was left just with sakusa, and sometimes his brain felt like a popsicle left out in the sun.

 _the popsicle fer today_ , atsumu thinks.

usually with a quick cocksure grin he can cover for himself and look somewhat put together in sakusa’s presence, to other people at least. atsumu doesn’t doubt sakusa can see right through his hard shell into the gross gooey center that makes up miya atsumu.

kind of terrifying, to say the least.

they’re about three minutes away from the complex and atsumu wracks his brain to think of something, _anything_ to prolong this and talk more with sakusa. it's sakusa who speaks up first.

“i can actually hear your brain going five hundred miles a minute right now,” he says it with a smirk, “penny for your thoughts?”

 _dammit_.

“oh so yer interested, omi-kun.” atsumu walks a bit faster to get in front of sakusa, now walking backwards. “just thinking about yer bendy wrists hitting all of my sets perfectly.”

“i hope you trip and fall.” sakusa deadpans.

atsumu feigns being offended, “yer killin me omi-kun, i thought we were havin’ a great evenin’ stroll.” he turns around, stepping to the side and letting sakusa fall in step with him.

they walk up on the entrance to the complex and atsumu holds the door open for sakusa. silently walking into the elevator, atsumu pressing the button for his floor and for sakusa’s own.

sakusa watches him do both things with wary eyes. “believe it or not, i can touch things, atsumu.” sakusa says, but it sounds like more of a question. like he’s questioning why atsumu would even think to do something thoughtless to him really. atsumu doesn’t miss the way he uses his given name.

“but ya’d rather not, right? considering it and everything.”

“it and everything.” sakusa repeats.

“i can stop if ya really wanna be yer own independent man.” atsumu says, smirk creeping up.

“i think i’ll let you handle the germs.” the dark haired man nearly shivers at the thought.

the elevator dings and the doors open to sakusa’s floor. he swings his bag over his shoulders, tucking his hands into his jackets pockets. “see you tomorrow, miya.”

atsumu takes in sakusa one last time before the elevator closes again and smiles, “see ya, omi-kun.”

☆

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he rolls his head to the left and checks the alarm clock. 3am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye. he groans and rubs at his face.

atsumu can’t remember when he started looking at sakusa differently, the interest has been buzzing beneath his skin since he first saw him at sixteen years old. gradually rattling a little harder, a little louder when they became teammates, created a dynamic, trusted each other on the court, and then, sometimes, off.

his phone lights up with a ding that breaks him out of his reverie and he considers unlocking it to read whatever hinata’s surely sent him at this hour before deciding against it and turning the phone over.

it dings again.

atsumu groans and kicks the covers around with his legs, grabbing the device and slapping in the code (0320, osamu changed it to mess with him and atsumu ended up guessing it on the third try. atsumu doesn’t know why he never changed it back and he’d rather not think too hard about it every time he types in sakusa’s birthday to open up his phone). he looks at the notifications through his bleary eyes and— thats not hinata— rubs his eyes to look again more clearly.

_omi omi_  
_3:08 AM - miya, you up?_  
_3:09 AM - actually nevermind_

atsumu stares at the texts until his vision goes out of focus and he has to consciously refocus his eyes. sakusa rarely texts him, rather opts to call him if anything which always makes atsumu’s heart beat a little faster when sakusa’s voice travels through the speaker and straight into his ear.

_3:12 AM: i’m up, whaddya need?_

atsumu wracks his brain to remember anything sakusa might have reason to contact him in the middle of the night for but comes up blank. maybe it’s about the schedule again. because that’s definitely something he’d need to ask at three in the morning, atsumu. fuck. they share an apartment complex, maybe there’s a fire—

_ding._

_omi omi_  
_3:14 AM: can’t sleep_

and what the _fuck_ does atsumu say to that? sakusa can’t sleep so he immediately texts atsumu? atsumu thinks he’s about the last person sakusa would want to text in the middle of the night, what the hell can he offer? atsumu backtracks in his mind, _a lot actually, if i wasn’t a mess of a human being in all topics concerning sakusa, jesus christ_. because really, atsumu does crave to be the person sakusa comes to first. wants to pick his brain and then put back all the pieces, neat and organized. loves the thought of being his number one.

atsumu can’t trip over his words and let sakusa relinquish what he’s giving atsumu right now, go back to square one where they only speak on friendly terms, never deeper. he remembers the time sakusa was frustrated after a loss, breathing hard into his towel while the black jackals own physical therapist examined his leg that gave out from under him during the game. and all atsumu could do was look at him. not offer a single word of comfort, anything at all. atsumu looked at him with sad eyes and he knew sakusa resented him for it.

_omi omi_  
_3:20 AM: good conversation._

atsumu curses under his breath.

_3:20 AM: fukc sorry_  
_3:21 AM: anything particular on yer mind_

_omi omi_  
_3:21 AM: yes but nothing i want to dive into. entertain me._

atsumu’s phone starts ringing and he jumps so far out of his skin that the device falls and smacks into the hardwood flooring. he fumbles in his comforter, hanging halfway off his bed to grab the phone and immediately accept the call before it goes to voicemail.

“hello?” atsumu sounds out of breath.

“ _did you just run a marathon?_ ” sakusa’s voice goes straight into atsumu’s ear and atsumu thinks this is what death is.

“just had a little problem untanglin’ my body from my sheets, all good now, why’re you callin’ me?” atsumu swings his body back up onto his bed and forgoes the comforter, shoving it to the wooden floor. the cold air nips at his legs.

“ _can’t sleep. you’re up_.” sakusa says like that makes it any more clearer.

“ya never fail to surprise me, omi.”

“ _likewise, tsumu_.”

atsumu’s entire body heats up at the name. a shiver runs down his spine. _tsumu, tsumu, tsumu_. it repeats in his head like a prayer. atsumu’s head tilts up and he looks at the popcorn ceiling.

he closes his eyes, willing himself to respond in a normal tone.

“tsumu? if i’m not mistaken it almost sounds like ya like me,” and oh god that is definitely _not_ what atsumu was planning to say. he raises his head up and slams it against the headboard of his bed.

“ _hmm_ ,” sakusa hums into the line. atsumu shakes.

“hmm?” atsumu questions.

“ _maybe_.” the lilt of sakusa’s voice extends through the phone.

what the _fuck_. atsumu thinks the hour of 3am has unlocked an unknown path, instead of the safe one that has many footprints, evidence hundreds of people have walked down it. the path forks off. he’s entering the road not taken, unknown territory.

sure, atsumu has been through one too many nights where his mind wanders to the box in his mind labeled _sakusa kiyoomi_ , full of memories and ideas of what was and what could be in the future. but atsumu feels an awful bit too close to a sudden change and he doesn’t know how to respond. _he doesn’t want to fuck up something that’s already good._

atsumu gears himself up to respond with some level of his usual cockiness, but the line goes dead.

the path is blocked by a pile of bricks.

☆

things get a little awkward from that moment on. the black jackals have an interview and sakusa pockets himself between meian and hinata, which doesn’t seem strange except for the fact that sakusa nearly always stays stood beside atsumu during interviews. atsumu was there to direct attention to himself if a question aimed at sakusa seemed too pervasive, changing the topic or answering the question himself. sakusa acknowledged atsumu’s efforts, thanking him with his eyes.

_sakusa looked like a fish out of water at the question the interviewer asked. ‘any girlfriends back home, sakusa-san? you have a lot of fans who’d love to have you.’ atsumu glared at the interviewer before jumping in with ‘hold on now, we can’t forget about bokuto’s boyfriend, the shounen editor, akaashi, can we? our personal favorite couple.’ bokuto took atsumu’s introduction and ran with it, listing all the things he loved about his boyfriend and how grateful he was for such a support system. sakusa looked at atsumu with a glint in his eyes and nodded. atsumu responded with a closed smile._

hinata, perceptive as always, looks at sakusa and then at atsumu with silent questioning in his eyes. atsumu shrugs him off and looks ahead into the camera with as much of a smile as he can muster.

the interview goes without a hitch thankfully, answering most of the same questions every interviewer asks and then playing some game where they guessed what card was stuck to their foreheads. atsumu was running on autopilot for the majority of the time spent in the stuffy room.

the black jackals all clamber into their bus together, sakusa seated in the back seat away from everyone else. his eyes catch with atsumu’s for a split second before he looks away and out of the window. atsumu sits beside hinata, who rambles on about the interview. atsumu tunes him out about three minutes in and puts his headphones in for the remainder of the ride back.

☆

osamu and suna’s apartment is one of the most boring and simplistic spaces atsumu has had the displeasure of viewing. sometimes atsumu would bring a horrid decoration he saw at the drugstore for half off and set it on a random surface just for a pop of _something_.

it’d be trashed within a day.

today, it was a statue of a pig in a chef’s uniform holding a sign that said ‘bon appetit’. atsumu stood it on the kitchen counter and centered it perfectly before raiding the fridge. he heard footsteps trailing to the kitchen, stopping just short of where wooden flooring became tiles.

“osamu, why’s your brother in our fridge?” suna’s voice rang out, aimed at the next room over where the tv was playing some rerun cooking competition.

atsumu’s head slammed into the shelf above his him and the bottles of water perfectly lined up rattled against each other. “first of all, ouch, second of all, ya coulda just asked me yerself. i’m not allowed t’come see my favorite brother?” atsumu rubbed his head and closed the fridge door with the hand he was holding a tupperware of leftovers in.

“he’s your only brother.” suna squinted.

“my statement stands.” atsumu dodges suna while grabbing a pair of chopsticks from the drawer beside him and enters the room osamu is occupying. he flops onto the couch and starts to eat while watching the cooking show.

osamu turns his head and watches him for a full minute. “what’s wrong now?” he questions.

at this, atsumu flares up and groans, “i can’t enjoy a day in with my brother? what kind of family is this?” he slides the tupperware onto the coffee table in front of him and throws his hands up, “some people ya both are, ya deserve each other,”

osamu throws a couch pillow at atsumu’s head, effectively shutting him up. “the last time you peacefully watched a cooking show with me, kita rejected yer ass a day before. fess up.”

atsumu glares at osamu for about twenty seconds before relenting.

“omi, he confessed,” a pause, “t’me. maybe? kinda? don’t even open yer trap ‘til i’m finished speaking. he called me _tsumu_ , fuckin’ _tsumu_ , osamu, i said it sounded like he likes me and this fucker _hums_. says _maybe_. i’m fuckin’ bouncin’ inside my own skull and before i can get a word out, he hangs up. and it’s been weird. like really fuckin’ weird since then,” atsumu scratches his chin, “i dunno why’d he be avoidin’ me unless it meant somethin’ more than a joke.”

osamu takes this information in, atsumu can see him trying to put it all together in his head. _good fuckin’ luck_ , he thinks, _i still can’t wrap my head around it_.

“tell him it’s reciprocated.” osamu says and then turns to face the tv. atsumu gawks at him.

right then, suna walks in holding the pig statue with both hands and an unimpressed look on his face. “i think this is the worst one yet.”

atsumu gets up and leaves.

☆

after the failed attempt at asking osamu for advice, atsumu naturally seeks some from hinata at a local coffee shop. only the burst of orange seems a tad bit nervous after atsumu relays the events of the night sakusa confessed (maybe confessed?) and tries to run away about three times before atsumu just lets him go.

“i need to go water my plants, i just remembered, atsumu-san they’ll die if i don’t water them,” he said as he pocketed his wallet and phone and hightailed it right out of the shop, coffee sloshing onto the ground. atsumu has been to hinata and kageyama’s apartment countless times, they do not have a single non-fake plant.

 _obviously shouyou knows something that i do not_ , atsumu thinks. has sakusa ever seeked advice from hinata before? comfort? atsumu’s memory pulls up blank, but seeing as he had no idea about sakusa contacting hinata until hinata made it painfully obvious this time, maybe atsumu lets a lot of things go unnoticed.

not that it’s really my business.

atsumu sips on his coffee and wonders if bokuto isn’t too busy to talk right now.

(he was.)

☆

atsumu thinks some of that tanaka guy's impulsiveness has rubbed off on him in the few times they’ve actually spoken.

he shifts back and forth on both his feet, the welcome mat flattening more and more the longer he stands outside of the door.

sakusa’s door. after failed attempts at asking others what the right answer is, atsumu made it up the elevator and right to the source himself.

he hasn’t knocked on the door yet, nerves eating at him every time he even thinks to try. atsumu is usually the one eating everyone else up, on the court, but right now he could get swallowed whole by sakusa kiyoomi himself. atsumu doesn’t think he’d mind that much if that happened, anyways.

atsumu weighs his options, go back to the safety of his own apartment and let this whole thing blow over. act normally with sakusa and pretend absolutely nothing happened between them at three in the morning on a saturday. or he could knock on the door and come face to face with sakusa in what seems like forever and try to sort this out head on. atsumu shudders at that thought.

atsumu takes a step backward and in the middle of turning around, the door in front of him swings open and the man of the hour is _right there_.

“uh, hello?” sakusa says and atsumu could die right about now. dig his own grave as best he could in the middle of the apartment complex and dive into it, fill it back up himself with dirt and finally get a moment of peace.

instead, he smiles.

“hey, omi-kun! beat me t’the door, was just aboutta knock,” atsumu lies and feigns confidence, which is new for him, it usually comes naturally, and takes in sakusa. black long sleeved t-shirt with a pair of sweats on, feet uncovered.

 _where was he about to go with no shoes on?_ atsumu looks back up to sakusa’s face. _and without a mask?_ sakusa answers.

“i felt your presence outside of my door. i looked through the peephole and saw you stand there for about three minutes. i don’t know how long you were there for the time i wasn’t watching. you were about to leave.” sakusa narrows his eyes at atsumu.

 _fuck_. “i, um, don’t really havva answer for that one,” his eyes look a little to the left and he looks into sakusa’s apartment and realizes he’s never been in there. he’s waited for sakusa outside of it and walked him there before saying goodnight, against sakusa’s pleads for him to ‘ _just go home_ ’, but he’s never been invited inside.

“you here to creep around, or did you need to ask something?” sakusa moves his head to block atsumu’s vision into the apartment and looks at him with an unsatisfied look.

“can i come in?” atsumu asks against better judgment.

sakusa looks at atsumu up and down. “last shower?” he questions.

“couple hours ago.” atsumu answers quickly.

“are those clothes washed?”

atsumu looks down at his black jackals hoodie and track shorts before looking back up at sakusa and answering. “fresh outta the dryer.”

sakusa opens the door wider and steps to the side, letting atsumu in. “shoes off and do not touch anything except for the couch and whatever i allow you to, okay?”

atsumu nods quickly, “okie.”

☆

atsumu and sakusa are sat on opposite ends of the pristine beige couch, some documentary about baseball playing on the local sports channel. the condensation of a water bottle sakusa had given him wetting his hand and the bare skin of his thigh that his shorts aren’t covering.

somewhere between the 1984 and 1996 summer olympics, atsumu’s mind wanders.

the thought that sakusa liked him had plagued his brain for a full week now, but atsumu couldn’t for the life of him pinpoint when he could feel a change in how sakusa treated atsumu, a moment when the switch flipped. he remembers sakusa’s blush in the locker room the day of the _incident_ , so graciously named by osamu when his twin texted him for any developments. atsumu had left him on read.

it’s not that someone having a crush on him is anything new. the new part is atsumu having a crush back that’s been festering for quite a while and building up more and more in the past few months. he doesn’t know what to do, where to go from here. the visualization of a tree losing its leaves in the middle of autumn, shriveling and dying, is all that atsumu can think of when he considers making a move. change can be a harsh thing. unexpected sometimes.

atsumu eyes flicker to the wooden coffee table in front of him and he considers braining himself on the edge.

“you want to explain why we’re in my living room watching a baseball documentary in silence or do i have to consider the fact that i brought this onto myself?” sakusa breaks the silence.

“well, ya definitely brought it onto yerself,” atsumu laughs dryly and sakusa keeps a stagnant expression on his face.

“i won’t take it back, i meant what i said. you don’t have to respond with anything. if that’s all you wanted you can leave.” sakusa looks into atsumu’s eyes and quickly glances away.

_i meant what i said._

atsumu stares at sakusa’s face and each individual feature, taking in the words. he looks at sakusa’s furrowed eyebrows and gets the urge to smooth them out with his thumb. he scoots over on the couch until his thigh is just about a foot away from touching sakusa’s.

atsumu’s brain conjures two images up this time, a tree in full bloom, leaves the same green color as the nori he wraps his onigiri with, and another, dead. leaves scattered around the base, crunching under the shoes of passersby.

things could go so right or so unbelievably _wrong_ atsumu can’t catch up with the thoughts of what could happen running through his mind. he closes his eyes, he takes a deep breath, and speaks.

“i’m so in love with you, i don’t think i realized it ‘til you said somethin’. i knew i liked you from the first time i saw you, but i knew i liked you _that way_ a few months ago. and all this confessin’ might bring me to tears but it’s true,” his eyes open, “i love you.” atsumu’s voice cracks on the final word.

a cautious hand reaches towards his own. atsumu stays as still as a statue as he watches the hand pass atsumu’s twitching fingers and find purchase on his sleeve. sakusa holds and twists on his sleeve with something like urgency. atsumu looks up. sakusa has a stunned look on his face, cheeks flushed with the prettiest red atsumu has ever seen.

“i could kiss you right now, i’d like to kiss you right now.” sakusa’s eyebrows furrow up again, frustrated. “i can’t offer you much, you know that right?”

sakusa showing some kind of insecurity was something atsumu never thought was possible, let alone something sakusa would share with him.

“i’ll take whatever ya give t’me.”

atsumu didn’t need kisses and touches, he needed the solidity of knowing sakusa was _there_. he wasn’t perfect, he’d fumble and fuck up surely. but he wanted to fumble and fuck up with sakusa. when the seasons changed, atsumu wanted sakusa right by his side.

sakusa inhales shakily and tugs on the sleeve, effectively pulling atsumu close enough to the point their thighs are squashed up together. atsumu can feel the heat radiating through the layer separating their skin.

“you are so understanding. you don’t even think twice about anything you do for me. but i do. nobody else cares for me like that.” sakusa’s eyes squeeze shut, “this is so _cheesy_ ,”

“just tell me we’re datin’ already, i can’t take this, omi-kun,”

“kiyoomi. say kiyoomi.” sakusa allows his eyes to open one by one.

“kiyoomi.” the name feels foreign on his tongue, atsumu can’t remember a time he’s ever used it in full. “kiyoomi, kiyoomi, kiyoomi, kiyoomi, be mine?”

“yes, atsumu,” he pauses, “yes.”

the path diverges completely with no trace of the one before, the trees surrounding it grow their leaves and the sun shines. _it’s okay because we’re together. it’s okay because i have you._

atsumu grips sakusa’s forearm through the sleeve and smiles, big and wide. sakusa leans forward and lays his head on atsumu’s chest.

no more words need to be said between them for now, realization and love settling deep into their bones as they take each other in, as they are.

☆

when atsumu accidentally shouts the pet name “babe” during an official match, setting the ball for his boyfriend, he starts a hellfire.

their names plastered on websites, their teammates clapping a hand on atsumu’s back, ‘ _well finally, miya. proud of you for growing a pair!_ ’

kiyoomi seethes as much as he can for someone so stupid in love. atsumu holds his hand, because he can do that now, and tries to puppy dog eyes his way out of this.

“you are actually incorrigible, miya atsumu.” sakusa groans and scrolls through articles on his phone with his hand that isn’t being held captive by atsumu’s.

“ya love it,” atsumu smiles and squeezes kiyoomi’s hand in his.

“sadly.” kiyoomi squeezes back.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO. i feel like i find myself saying this in every authors note and i also feel like its pass the point where i can say im not a real writer! this was for funsies! because this was NOT fun in the slightest at some points and i actually wanted to cry a couple times but thats just life i guess! this is the longest thing ive ever written and it took like a week of deleting. rewriting. repeat. and i know all u writers r like Duh!! BUT IM NEW HERE. this is getting long. the point is that this was nice and challenging and i know it is not shakespeare but im proud of it? n thats what matters. i also have to give gigantic thanks to my friends lexi, carissa, and rea thank u for reading this mess even in early stages n being sososo kind and supportive. thank u for reading. comments make me smile the most.
> 
> my socials are kiyohmi on twt and mjtsuba on ig!! <3


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